


Towards the Horizon

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chilling in Hasetsu, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: Victor figures out a way to motivate Yuuri during his early morning runs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This could probably be viewed as gen if you were that way inclined, but I can't help but see everything in this fandom through shipper goggles, so we'll call it pre-slash. Set sometime around Episodes 4-5.

Yuuri hated running. Although executing jumps and spins was probably more difficult and more effortful than jogging in a straight (if seemingly never-ending) line, Yuuri rarely felt the actual exertion of skating. It was fun, after all. It was his _life_. And even in the moments when it wasn't entirely enjoyable – when the pressure of competition managed to overwhelm his abiding love of the sport – the effort was still mostly emotional rather than physical.

Running, on the other hand, only ever seemed to be a means to an end. And, more often than not, it was a reminder that he'd put on pounds that his body couldn't afford to bear during competition season, or at least that he was eternally at risk of gaining that weight back yet again. 

"Yuuri," Victor coaxed, both syllables drawn out overdramatically.

Yuuri reached for his pillow and clamped it down over his head to seal out the sound.

"Too early," Yuuri complained, his words undoubtedly muffled under the pillow.

"Come on, Yuuri, it's already after dawn, and you've got a full day of practice after your run."

Yuuri had always pictured Victor as a late riser; the kind of person who lazed indulgently in a warm and comfortable bed for as much of the morning as he could manage (not that he'd ever imagined how Victor Nikiforov would look and act in the morning, of course). It was a harsh dose of truth to find that Victor was just as overly chipper in the mornings as he ever was during the later hours of the day. On most mornings, at least. Yuuri might (possibly) have also imagined how Victor might behave in a post-alcohol stupor, and that at least had turned out to be a lot closer to reality.

"Yuuri," Victor said again, this time sounding more disappointed than imploring. 

Damn it. He'd figured out Yuuri's weakness. He couldn't stand to disappoint Victor, at least not if he could actually help it. He knew he was bound to do so without intending to from time to time, of course, but this wasn't quite the same as messing up a jump or earning less than a +3 GOE.

"Anything but running," Yuuri finally said. "Anything."

Victor was silent for a moment. "All right, then," he agreed. "How about a trip to the beach instead?" 

When Yuuri let himself be dragged to the beach, he didn't expect Victor to hand him his running shoes upon arrival. What a liar, he thought, but didn't dare to say as much for fear of Victor levelling him with that stare of disapproval he'd somehow avoided all morning despite his admittedly childish refusal to get up and exercise.

"Now, now," Victor said, as if he'd heard Yuuri's thoughts all the same. "We're going for a jog on the _beach_ this morning. It's totally different."

Yuuri's eyebrows shot up. " _We_ are?" he asked, stunned. And yes, that _was_ totally different from their norm. There was something about trailing behind as Victor cycled easily ahead of him that made the distance between them feel substantial. That reminded Yuuri of forever chasing after the perfect image of Victor Nikiforov that graced his television screen. To have Victor running by his side, though…

Victor produced his own running shoes. "We," he repeated in acknowledgement. "Now, I haven't been running in months, remember, and I've been eating katsudon most nights as well, so there's no reason you shouldn't win a race between us. Actually, I'll be very disappointed if you don't easily beat me."

"Excuses, excuses," Yuuri mocked, then nearly fell straight to his knees in apology when he realised what he'd just said to _Victor_ , of all people. Thankfully, Victor just laughed, amused rather than offended. 

"No, no, a real excuse would be to mention how much older than you I am. You're at the peak of your career, whereas I'm all but retired. Frankly, you should probably be able to lap me."

Maybe I will, Yuuri thought, but even with Victor demonstrating an inkling of the kind of self-effacing humour he'd never have expected of him, Yuuri himself wasn't sure he'd ever be confident enough to joke with him that way out loud.

Once his shoes were tightly laced and Victor had pointed out the finish line (which seemed ridiculously far down the beach, honestly, Yuuri was going to _die_ ), Yuuri fell into a ready position, waiting for Victor to give the signal the start of this impromptu race.

It never came, since Victor shot off down the beach without saying a word, the sound of fading laughter the only indication that Yuuri wasn't imagining this grievous violation of the rules (which, he had to admit, Victor hadn't exactly been clearly on in the first place).

Still.

"Cheater!" Yuuri cried as he took off after his coach. 

The soft sand provided little resistance against the digging motion of his feet, so it took a lot more effort to get traction for each step than it would have running along the hard concrete of the pier. If anything, this type of running should have been a _worse_ endeavour than the morning jog Yuuri had initially been so keen to avoid. But Yuuri was laughing his way through it, because chasing a cheeky Victor Nikiforov down a beach on foot was somehow very different than trying to keep up with a distant coach setting a training pace on a bicycle.

The sand snuck into his socks, rubbing his skin raw, and his calf muscles were burning with each flexing motion, but Yuuri was closing the distance, the lines of Victor's back gaining some clarity even despite the absence of Yuuri's glasses as the gap between them lessened to nothing.

"No!" Victor gasped as Yuuri passed him by. "No fair!"

"I'm not the one who was cheating," Yuuri reminded him. All the same, he incrementally slowed his pace so that he maintained a distance of only a step or two ahead of Victor for the remaining duration of the run. He wanted to beat the cheater, yes, but it was still more fun to run _with_ Victor than to properly show him up by crossing the imaginary finish line ages before him.

"You only just barely beat me," Victor announced (panted, more like) when they reached the end of the run. 

Yuuri smiled and said nothing, more than willing to let Victor believe that he'd been close to beating Yuuri.

But from the look on his face, Yuuri could see that Victor likely knew, or at least suspected, the truth. Perhaps he even appeared a little grateful for Yuuri's sense of diplomacy.

"Time for a cool down!" Victor announced, and Yuuri didn't even have time to consider the meaning of those words before Victor was shedding clothes and tossing them haphazardly at Yuuri's feet.

Oh, not again, Yuuri complained silently. Of course, that thought didn't stop him from taking in the revealed naked expanses of Victor's skin with hungry eyes. 

"Come on, Yuuri, you can't go for a swim dressed in all that!" 

Well, Yuuri supposed, he _had_ been entirely naked in front of Victor before, and even though that might not have been entirely his own choice, it still meant that stripping down to his underwear was ultimately somewhat less intimidating than it might otherwise have been, even with Victor watching him expectantly. 

"Beat you to the water," Victor said when Yuuri was still only half-undressed, and Yuuri's competiveness reared its head again. Yuuri couldn't recall a time when he'd been quicker to discard his clothing, suddenly heedless of the fact that he wasn't alone and was technically out in public, even if there was no one else on this stretch of beach besides himself and Victor.

He dashed for the waves, and somehow nearly managed to beat Victor there despite his head start. Not quite, though. The next hour was, of course, peppered with reminders from Victor that he'd won against Yuuri even with his old, creaky joints (which earned a scoffing sound from Yuuri, of course). 

"I want a rematch," Yuuri demanded. He didn't demand that Victor refrained from cheating during said rematch, though, because (even though he'd never admit it aloud) he found Victor's underhanded attempts to gain an advantage for himself somehow endearing.

Victor grinned. "I'd like nothing more. How about tomorrow morning?"

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. He was no fool. Victor didn't have him quite so star struck that he couldn't see the obvious. He was aware of exactly what Victor was doing, roping him into more morning runs that Yuuri might otherwise have fought against. But this _had_ been more fun than most non-skating-related exercise ever was for him, and there was something oddly satisfying about expending all that effort with the knowledge that Victor was going to end up even more tired than he was.

"All right," he agreed. "But tomorrow we're going twice as far." Victor had commented often enough on his stamina. It was time he grew to fully appreciate the extent of it.

"Ah, you're trying to kill me," Victor whined.

You've no one to blame but yourself, Yuuri thought with great satisfaction.

He dived into the waves to avoid having to say anything. When he surfaced it was only for a moment, before he was tackled by Victor and the two of them dipped below the surface together. 

The water was surprisingly cold for autumn, but Yuuri could only feel warmth.


End file.
